


Little Riddles

by SonjaJade



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood & Manga
Genre: Gen, Murder, Undercover Missions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-27
Updated: 2017-03-27
Packaged: 2018-10-11 11:43:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,786
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10464129
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SonjaJade/pseuds/SonjaJade
Summary: They speak in codes, talking in nonsensical circles.  However, they know exactly what the other is saying.





	

**Author's Note:**

> FMA Fic Contest Prompt: “I need to let you go.”

Not a single hair was out of place.  Her makeup was perfect.  Her dress was smooth and shimmering with sequins and tiny beads.  Her jewelry was minimal and elegant and not at all like the gaudy huge gems and thick gold chains she preferred.  Checking her clutch one more time to be sure the small camera was working, Chris Mustang wrapped a modest sable stole around her shoulders and made her way to the hotel lobby.

“Going out, Ms. Chatham?” the doorman asked as he cheerfully held the door open for her.

“Yes,” she replied, adding a bit of an Aerugoan accent to her voice.  “I’m meeting an old friend for dinner at Koranado’s uptown.”

The young man scurried in front of her and took her hand, guiding her carefully down the steps to the curb.  “Let me hail a cab for you, ma’am!”  He waved down a car and assisted her into the backseat.  “I’ll probably be gone home by the time you return, Ms. Chatham, so have a wonderful evening with your friend!”

Chris thanked him and waved as the taxi pulled away.  She was itching for a cigarette but not just yet.  She was crashing a ball taking place just around the corner from Koranado’s.  Vanessa was already there, serving drinks or hors d'oeuvres or something.  Whatever she was doing, of course, was just a cover for what she was _really_ doing: spying on a drug lord from the west side of the Central province.  It was Chris’ job to somehow meet with him privately at the ball, hopefully out on one of the private balconies.  After that, one of ten trained assassins would snuff him out.  They’d be back on a train to Central City before dawn and their payment would be made after the contact had received proof of death.

The car stopped and let her out at the restaurant, and after it rolled away the Madame strolled about half a block to the ballroom.  Being dressed to the nines as she was, no one questioned her when she walked in like she owned the place.  Vanessa came over immediately and smiled.  “Can I interest you in some champagne, madam?”

_“He’s near the bar.”_

Chris returned her smile, nodding at her best girl.  “Yes, please!”

_“Got it.”_

“Dinner has already been served, but I’d be glad to make you a plate if you like.  Perhaps you’d enjoy chatting with our other guests?” Vanessa suggested as her eyes never stopped moving around the room.

_“His guards are eating, he’s talking with someone.”_

“That sounds lovely, thank you,” Madame responded, her eyes questioning.

_“Is it a woman?”_

Vanessa smiled and answered, “No problem, ma’am!  Enjoy your evening!”  She turned away and walked back into the crowd, offering drinks from her tray and weaving back toward their target.

_“No.”_

Chris made nice with the other guests, chit-chatting and schmoozing and bullshitting her way through the crowd.  At last she got close enough to the bar to see the man, someone only named in a phone call as “Farron”.  Vanessa caught her gaze and gently bumped into him.

“Forgive me, sir!” she cried out.  “Are you alright?”

Farron looked annoyed.  “Stupid bitch, watch where you’re going!”

Chris said nothing, only watched as Vanessa lowered herself to profusely apologizing for accidentally bumping the man’s arm.  She hadn’t even spilled anything on him!  But the outburst gave the Madame an opportunity to read the man’s attitude and behavior, giving her the upper hand in handling him. 

Besides, he’d called her best girl a ‘stupid bitch’.  Now it was personal.

Feigning another accent, she interrupted him, “Now, now!  A fine gentleman such as yourself shouldn’t get so worked up over the help!”  She sauntered right up to him and laid her hand on his arm.  “After all, she’s nothing more than a trained monkey.  You can’t fault the monkey, only the trainer!”

Farron arched an eyebrow at her.  “Is that a fact?”

Chris waved the comment away.  “At least she had the good sense to apologize.  Some aren’t even that intelligent.”  She looked at Vanessa.  “Why don’t you go over toward the front if you feel like knocking into people.  They aren’t as important as we are, you monkey.”

_“Hit the front and watch for his guards.”_

“Y-yes, ma’am!  Right away, ma’am!”  And Vanessa hurried away like a frightened mouse.

Madame extended her hand to Farron.  “I’m Sophia Maddox.  I own a distillery in the East.  I got hundreds of trained monkeys just like her working for me.  Only difference is that my monkey trainers are worth a shit!”  They shared a laugh and shook hands, then Chris ordered a scotch for she and her new ‘friend’.  “Let’s have a real drink, shall we?” she said as she tugged a long ebony cigarette holder from her clutch (and discretely turned the camera on).  Farron lit the tobacco for her and they savored their drinks.

Farron’s companion, who was quickly becoming a third wheel, quietly slipped away as Madame poured on her charms.  She flirted like the true professional she was, and it wasn’t long before he was eating out of her silk-gloved hand.  All the sudden, there was a crash near the front, and she spotted Vanessa in the middle of a hole in the crowd, picking up pieces of glass and crying (crocodile tears for sure).  Madame knew she was creating a diversion so that they could slip away, as his guards were likely returning.

“The monkeys are starting to stink up the place,” Chris purred in Farron’s ear.  “Why don’t we go somewhere a little more private and get some fresh air.”

“That sounds delightful, Ms. Maddox.”  He offered her his arm and she took it, leading him away to the southern balcony… where she told her contact she would attempt to take him.

As they walked, Madame went over the plan in her head: Vanessa was likely dismissed by the catering company now, which meant she’d gone across the street to alert the snipers.  All she had to do was be sure to put at least an arm’s length of space between them, and the job would be done.  They’d decided that she would give them about ten minutes to get in position, and Vanessa would be waiting in the shadows with a change of clothes so they could make their getaway.

Farron took them to an empty hallway away from the noise of the ball, and they exited out onto an equally empty balcony.  It overlooked the street below, but it was a deserted one way street in the business district.  Farron nuzzled Chris’ cheek and placed a kiss to her neck, and she fought the urge to shudder.  Something about being kissed by a guy who would be dead in about fifteen minutes was just creepy.

“Why don’t we get a little closer, Ms. Maddox.  It’s a chilly evening.”

As Chris and Farron held each other and teased one another, she became aware of the sounds of men arguing, likely a pair of assassins keeping their cover.  Then she heard varying cats crying, but the sound wasn’t there when they first arrived.  Likely more of her contact’s men.  Then there was a familiar whistle, something that sounded like a cross between a squeaky hinge and a pigeon.  That was Vanessa signaling her that she’d be with her in five minutes.

Farron had no idea what was coming.  Chris had plied him with enough scotch to dull his senses and had jerked him out of the ballroom before his guards could return to him.  Slowly, she unwound herself from him and stepped the railing, taking a deep breath.

“Is everything okay, Ms. Maddox?” Farron asked as he came up behind her and rubbed her arms.

“Everything’s going so fast!” Chris panted.  “I…  I’m not sure I’m ready for this.”

Farron smiled at her as he turned her toward him.  “C’mon.  You poured on the charm all night and now you’re having second thoughts?”  He leaned in for a kiss and she twisted away from him.  “Sophia?”

“I’ve got a confession to make,” she wailed dramatically.  She put her hand to her forehead as if she were going to faint, and then she paced to the opposite side of the balcony, leaving Farron staring after her.

“What is it?” his voice genuinely concerned.

Chris turned and pointed her clutch with the camera inside at him.  “I’m really a whore from Central City, and nobody calls Vanessa a stupid bitch and gets away with it.”

There was a distant _pop_ and Farron’s body crumpled into a pile.  Blood poured from his skull and his eyes stared blankly at Chris’ feet.  She pointed the camera directly at his face and filmed his death stare, then reached in to turn the camera off, grab her cigarettes, and then she tossed the clutch into the bushes below.  Her contact’s men would retrieve it as proof that he was killed and she would be paid handsomely.

Vanessa opened the door and said, “C’mon, they’re lookin’ for him.”

They hurried into an abandoned back stairwell.  Madame quickly shucked out of the fancy outfit and into a well worn dress, tattered cardigan and scuffed up flats.  Vanessa tied a scarf over her head and she was transformed from elegant, high society businesswoman to a poor grandmother.  Vanessa was already in similar clothing, and they exited into the back alley unnoticed.

* * *

About a week later, Madame Christmas sat nursing a scotch with her son.  He was still distraught over the loss of his friend, and she didn’t want him to drink alone.  He lit her cigarettes for her and told her stories about the man who was murdered in a phone booth at Central Command.  She listened to each story and held his hand as he cried.

The phone rang and Vanessa answered.  “Just a moment,” she said cheerfully.  “Madame, it’s for you.”

Chris gave Roy’s cheek a kiss with a promise she’d be right back, and she took the call in her office.  “Chris here.”

A dark voice said, “It’s come full circle.  I need to let you go in six weeks.”

_“I’ve got the film reel. Our agreement is fulfilled, expect payment in three days.”_

“I didn’t like champagne anyway!” she yelled, slamming the phone down in the process.

_“Anytime.”_

As she rejoined her best boy at the bar, she thought about the irony of the evening.  Two men- shot and killed in cold blood.  One’s loss was mourned, the other’s was rejoiced and celebrated.  She heard Roy mention something about monsters called chimaeras and homunculi back when he was an alchemy student.  Chris knew who the real monsters were: humans.


End file.
